Dennis Schafer, the manager of the building, with his retro mustache. His incessant Sunday night listening, on a cranked-up radio, to Dr. Demento. And listening to Stan Freberg, too – so I told him I knew the family. Speaking of cranked up – my boyfriend playing his favorite record Suffragette City by David Bowie over and over and over again, standing by our record player to turn up the volume as it builds at just the right part towards the end of the brilliant song — and then the lyrics “Ohh wham bam, thank you, mam.”

The postman, who was also an actor, who lived two doors north. Bob Englund, the actor who lived next to the postman, then out-of-work. Ed Carter, who toured with The Beach Boys, living a few doors south. Jan Heininger actor from Michigan living in the same courtyard with his girlfriend Kerry — my doppleganger. His best friend Bruce Pearn. The Beverly High crew that moved into another bungalow, Alex Gamble and Jerry Smith. Their visitor, Steve, whose last name was the cigarette my mom smoked, and the first person I knew on Quaaludes – every single day. (more…)